


tête-à-tête

by Walor



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece & Rome, Face-Fucking, Greek Lore, M/M, Marking Dubious Consent despite Jason agreeing because he is Ra's slave, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Porn With Plot, References to Gods and Goddesses, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, not historically accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25582168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walor/pseuds/Walor
Summary: Thomas, the Emperor of Rome, has ceded territory to end a seemingly endless war with the rival emperor in the desert, Ra's. For Thomas's willingness to give back nations formally under Ra's rule, he will be given a gift precious to his former enemy. The catch, however, is that he must share it.
Relationships: Thomas Wayne/Ra's al Ghul/Jason Todd
Comments: 3
Kudos: 50





	tête-à-tête

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scandalsavage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/gifts).



> A late gift to my dear Scandal.

Nanda Parbat is more beautiful at night than it is during the day.   
  
The city at the base of the Himalayan mountain range is alight with paper lanterns dotting the roofs of the many buildings inside its walls. Even the trees that reach high into the sky have a number of lanterns hanging among the branches, casting colored light down onto the cobblestone streets below. The cheers can be heard all the way up the main mountain road, and every now and then an explosion of bright smoke shoots high into the night sky where it spreads and fades among the company of the few stars. Smoke from the numerous bonfires on street corners curls up into the sky, intertwining with one another before the wind takes them south down into the valley.   
  
At this rate, or from what has been said, the celebration will carry on far into the following week. It is so unlike his home.   
  
Thomas has never cared for traveling too far east. When he was younger, he had traveled the length of Europe’s continent as the apprentice of a mapmaker. Different cultures and languages he stored in a vast collection of notebooks that he sent back to the capital, to fill an ever-growing library in the capital’s largest collection. It had taken years to travel the extent of his home’s entire empire, the thought of going beyond its borders, through an endless desert was buried beneath political career aspirations. Ceaseless war with the desert’s current monarch had made the idea equally unappealing, Thomas had spent a majority of his later years fighting among its dunes. It had been enough to sour the unknown’s attraction.   
  
However, that changed when the Emperor succumbed to his own mortality. Thomas’s standing in the senate and his experience in the military had made him all but chosen ruler. His books and years traveling were all the evidence his campaign needed to provide. He was crowned within a month.   
  
It’s possible for that same reason that, rather than acknowledge his power by sending a fleet of assassins, Ra's al Ghul sent an olive branch. Making Thomas the first Roman emperor to have open communication with the powerful Shah in the east. Whatever the reason, Thomas wonders why he never bothered to question what was beyond the deserts of Persia. Nanda Parbat is an exquisite sight, one he hopes to see more often with this truce.   
  
“Rather expressive, your people.”   
  
Thomas glances away from the sight of the town back to his companion. They are standing on the balcony of Ra’s grand palace, hundreds of feet above the ground. Around them, fine pillows made of soft silk with golden thread are littered and piled high and stuffed full of goose feathers. Below their feet, a beautiful rug covered in embroidered designs that speak the history of Ra’s rule. If it’s as exaggerated as Ra’s claims it to be, the colorful images certainly reflect it. Between them on plates of gold are the unfinished piles of food Ra’s had his cooks bring up.. There are dried pieces of fruit, candied with clumps of sugar, among toasted and flavor meats; lamb, chicken, goat, and some different birds Thomas does not recognize.   
  
He’s wearing clothing the people in the town had made for him as a gift. It’s heavier than the robes he wears in Rome, far more colorful than the muted tones he adorns on a daily basis. The patterns are beautiful and are sewn with pelts from dangerous predators that hunt in the nearby mountains, keeping him warm from the icy air.   
  
Ra’s smiles at him from where he’s relaxed amongst the pillows. “It has been a while since they have known peace. Many of them have never thought of a future where their sons would be home to support them. I would not blame them.”   
  
Thomas felt, before coming to Nanda Parbat, he had known what kind of man Ra’s was. As a soldier, Ra’s had been a formidable opponent. There had been times Thomas had walked into an ambush while planning his own. His armies had possessed zealotry that led them to feats of strength that seemed incapable of normal men. Oftentimes, even weighed down by arrows, a single Eastern soldier would fight minutes after their body seemed to have been completely emptied of blood. Even then, their death was sudden, unexpected, in the middle of bringing down a sword before dropping out of nowhere.   
  
Ra’s’ battle plans were confusing, yet cleverly predictable once Thoams started studying them. They were evolved from ancient Persian tactics in centuries-old texts Thomas had only happened to stumble across while occupying Kandahar. The occupation did not last nearly as long as Thomas would have liked, but before the Roman army was driven back, he had taken the texts, studying them over the course of a month. The methods of war Ra’s used were chess-like and much easier to combat once he had found out his secret.   
  
Another reason Ra’s reached out to him, rather than scorn him like his predecessors. A fact Thomas has not taken lightly.   
  
“I’m not sure how the capital will react, knowing the amount of territory we will be ceding to you. But, as you said, it has been a long time since families have been without a son to depend on.” Thomas glances at Ra’s who is relaxing among the pillows. “My only worry is for the agreement on _your_ terms.”   
  
Ra’s quirks a brow. For a man that has been Shah over the east for decades, he does not look as old as his reign has lasted. There are few wrinkles on his face, only noticeable when he smiles wide. His hair has only just started to gray at the base of his temples, lightening his dark black hair. Eyes a vivid and bright green, sparkling with an intensity Thomas has seen in young, ambitious men.   
  
“You do not think me trustworthy?”   
  
Thomas raises a hand. “No. I simply think that someone who has waged a war for a dozen years, with an army of men as devoted as yours, it would be easy to hold out on your end of the peace treaty.”   
  
Ra’s huffs quietly, a sly little grin on his face. “You think me so hard-headed I would not have bothered sending you an invitation to the compound.”   
  
Thomas concedes that point. There is very little he could have done if Ra’s was as much of a tyrant as the previous Caesar told the people.   
  
“Though I can understand the point you are trying to reach, even with how impolite your accusal is.”   
  
“Then let me ask for your forgiveness. I didn’t mean to offend. You must understand, after several decades of war, it is hard for even me to change my thinking. Especially now that you are a friend and no longer my enemy.”   
  
Ra’s smiles, patting the pillows among the balcony. “Sit with me. I have something to tell you.”   
  
Thomas moves away from the edge of the balcony. He takes a few steps back and crouches, finding a comfortable position amongst the pillows to relax, pulling the robes tighter around his body. He’s still not used to the mountain air and its biting frost. Ra’s, on the other hand, wears nothing but a green tunic, unlaced, that exposes a fine amount of his surprisingly built chest.   
  
“I haven’t forgotten the risk you took even coming to see me,” Ra’s says when Thomas is finally settled. “Hate is hard to let go of. Many men in your senate may still desire to see you dead, even with the end of a war. Ceding territory to an enemy, you may have more at your back when you return home.”   
  
“I’ve considered this.” Thomas had for a dozen long and near sleepless nights. “I’m not worried.”   
  
“Nevertheless, your acceptance of betrayal from your brothers in arms deserves something in return. I am not one to deny gifts to those that deserve them.” Ra’s holds up his hand. Inside the bedroom, waiting for commands, are a dozen slaves. Half of them are in charge of domestic sectors, as shown by the copper bands they wear on their wrists. The others, with bands made of dark ebony, or as Ra’s says, molten rock from the mountains, are Ra’s’ personal guard. One of those slaves, a large one named Ubu, walks forth to kneel at the entrance to the balcony.   
  
“Go fetch the emperor's gift. Don’t take too long returning to me.”   
  
Ubu nods, standing to his full height before giving a cursory bow to Ra’s and then to Thomas. He leaves with thundering footsteps back out into the compound’s halls.   
  
“Do I get to know what this gift is before it arrives? I’m not too fond of surprises.”   
  
Ra’s smile is wicked. “I assumed you wouldn’t be. The gift is rather personal, beloved to me. What I am offering is an arrangement as well as an enticement to visit Nanda Parbat to keep communication transparent and frequent.”   
  
Thomas quirks a brow. “Will it be kept here?”   
  
“Certainly, it is mine, after all. I am mostly offering to share it with you, to show you just how seriously I take this treaty. How grateful I am for you giving back cities that belong to our ancestors.”   
  
“Normally, gifts are given without the expectation of them being returned. Or shared, for that matter.” Thomas has never been marvelous at sharing. Something even his wife had to learn when it came to trivial matters in their own home. “I’m not very good at that, I’m afraid.”   
  
“You will be, I think, with this.” Ra’s leans back on the pillows, resting his hands over his lap. “That being said, there are some rules that go along with this gift.”   
  
“And what gift comes with rules? This is starting to sound less of a gift and more like a rope you are intending to have me put around my neck.” Thomas frowns and watches a few of the slaves in Ra’s bedroom begin to move from where they had been standing. A few of the domestic slaves filter into a side room, from there they return after a minute, bringing large fans and instruments like a harp and several lutes.   
  
Ra’s scoffs beside him. “Patience, I am not planning anything nefarious. Your gift is nothing trivial, gold or jewelry, or land, I’m afraid.”   
  
“Is it something that can be seen? It sounds like I am being gifted nothing at all, with the exception, perhaps, of a dish. Unless the rules for such a thing are to wait until it’s cold.” Thomas watches a few of the slaves tune their instruments. They gather in a semicircle in front of Ra’s and himself, parting down the center so there is a path back towards the entry of the room. None of them speak to one another, and yet all of them fall into the same practice melody when one of the lute players begins to hum a soft, airy note. The song they play is light and happy, almost akin to some of the songs he’s heard further South along the isles on the beaches.   
  
Ra’s listens beside him and when the players are all in tune together he raises a hand. They all stop and dip their heads. “I am giving you something better than gold or land, Thomas. I want to make sure you _appreciate_ what I am allowing you to partake in. I will not have it greedily destroyed because someone takes advantage of my generosity.”   
  
It’s exceptionally hard to not take immediate offense to such a statement. Ra’s must see it upon his face, to some extent whether minimal or extreme he is not sure. He would have probably received the same response either way. Ra’s laughs, tilting his head back and resting a hand on his shoulder.   
  
“I do not mean to insult you, Thomas. I am simply speaking from my own experience. I nearly destroyed this gift upon receiving it simply due to the fact that I underestimated how hungry I could become. That is why I am giving you rules and a warning. You must be careful.”   
  
“The more you speak, the less inclined I am to believe this a gift, and more a curse.”   
  
“I’ll let you be the judge once it arrives-- Ah, here it comes.”   
  
The slaves, having stood idly the moment Ra’s commanded them to stop, take position once more. The harp player sits down on a small wooden stool beside her instrument, a dainty hand reaching out to pluck a few soft chords. The song is slow, haunting before the lute players chime in one by one. Each growing in a chorus, a mimicry of voices, until they reach a loud terrifying pitch then cease. Thomas quirks a brow at Ra’s, who motions towards the silk tapestry at the other end of the room. Out from it slips a figure, hidden behind a feathered fan that skirts silently into the middle of the room.   
  
The lute players begin again, the new arrival shivers the fan so the feathers swap and flap to the tune of the song. The stranger, from the glittering pants embedded with shiny beads and coins, must be a dancer. That much, from the way they are dressed, becomes assured the moment they begin to dance. Slowly, stretching out their long legs, toned and muscular underneath the sheer, red fabric. The fan, large and obnoxious, blocks the entire upper half of their body. Thomas leans to the side, to try and catch a glimpse as the dancer flits around the room, but Ra’s rests a hand on his knee.   
  
“Patience, Thomas, you’ll see them soon.”   
  
“It seems all I have done so far is be patient.”  
  
The dancer draws their leg up, higher and higher, until their foot goes far above their head. They hold still for a moment and then push off their standing foot and flip to the side in the air. All the while annoyingly keeping the fan in front of their face.   
  
“It will be worth it.”   
  
At this point, it must be. Resting back on the mountain of pillows behind him, Thomas watches as the dancer teases a slight peek. Drawing the fan up, they, or, well, _he,_ exposes his bare stomach, just as toned as the legs he can make out. He draws the fan higher, past his chest were two gold rings decorate his nipples, a slim chain of gold connecting both of them in the middle where they travel up to a slim collar around his neck. Then the fan drops back down and he is dancing again.   
  
Eventually, the music picks up, loud and fast, the lute players all joining together to create one single note that rises and overpowers the harp. All at once, the fan snaps shut, revealing a young black-haired man with a smirk on his face. More importantly, however, is the blade he holds between his teeth.   
  
“Easy, Thomas, this is not some assassination attempt.” It’s only the feeling of Ra’s hand wrapping around his wrist that draws his eyes down. There he sees his own hand reaching for the small blade tucked against his waist. Ra’s draws his hand back and waits, watching him carefully until Thomas moves his hand from the hilt of his dagger and back against the pillows.   
  
“It would be a very clever attempt.” Thomas frowns, though he does return his attention to the dancer. The blade is still there between his teeth, but the fan has been set aside, held by another slave waiting off to the back of the room.   
  
Watching him now, without the help of the fan, Thomas is able to see that this dancer is not exactly _talented._ No longer half-hidden behind a plethora of feathers, the man’s movements are not as fluid, they are rather janky and stuttering. His body moves off beat to the music, and he does not have the slim and curved body of some other performers Thomas has seen. The man is large, built like a soldier, with a very well-muscled body that is littered with dozens of scars.   
  
“What is this?” Despite everything, the oddity of the performance and the dancer’s body, Thomas finds himself entranced.   
  
“This is Raghs-e Chagoo, it is a traditional dance done during weddings. Seeing as we are entering an alliance, I thought it appropriate, no?” Ra’s smirks, all white, sharp teeth. “Oh, or did you mean who have I brought before you? Considering I have no women that would match the beauty of your beloved Martha, I decided to let rumors tell me who I would bring to warm your bed. If, however, they hold any weight.”   
  
Ah. Master of shadows, Ra’s is still playing chess even now it seems. It seems he has spies closer to his bedside than he knows. Few are privy to Thomas’s secrets, especially the ones that tell of his attraction to those that remind him of his own past self. He is a narcissist, he knows this, but never before has he seen someone so perfectly capture his covert lust than the young man in front of him. He can see why Ra’s took the time to warn him and set down rules. Thomas would destroy him, given the chance.   
  
“Who is he.” Thomas looks at Ra’s. The young man looks far too Roman to be from any of the cities within the desert. In fact, he looks like he may have been in one of Thomas’s own personal squadrons if it weren’t for the fact that Thomas would have remembered his face. There is no way he might have forgotten it.   
  
“He is Jason of Greece.” Ra’s motions with his hand to one of the women off to the side of the room. She comes forward with a wineskin, pouring it into Ra’s’ empty glass. "Fallen out of favor with the gods, left to roam the world alone and unhappy. That is, of course, if he wasn’t lying when he was first brought to us. Half-delirious from being hit in the head by the branches of a tree, you see.”   
  
The man, Jason, continues to flit around the room, with all the grace of a bull stumbling about after a heifer in heat. Now that his face is no longer hidden by the fan, Thomas can see, quite obviously, the distaste and disgust there. Beneath his blinding smile and the blade between it, Thomas can see anger, potent and sharp, in sharp blue of his eyes. The glare he spares for Ra’s is nothing if not vitriolic and murderous. It is only then Thomas finally notices the cast-iron manacles on his wrists, a shocking contrast to the dainty golden band around his throat.   
  
“Where did you find him?”   
  
“I didn’t find him. He came to us, wandering through the desert outside of Kandahar, half-dead from dehydration. Unfortunately, it seems his time alone had spoiled his attitude or at least his understanding of manners. It took a long time to tone down some of that unnecessary savagery. But,” Ra’s takes a drink from his now full glass. Then he laughs. “Something tells me you like a bit of a challenge.”   
  
That would be true. He’ll have to thoroughly interrogate his frumentarii when he returns to the capitol to see just exactly how well he knows his own men.   
  
“I do not know whether I should be offended by the endless pool of knowledge you have about me or thankful if this is how I am rewarded.”   
  
“Know thy enemy and all that rot.” Ra’s sets down his glass. “Rather useful now that all that matters is keeping you pleased, isn’t it? Go on. The only way to get your prize is to offer him gifts in order to hand over the blade.”   
  
“Oh? Am I required to satisfy my own gift before I can even have it?”   
  
Ra’s waves his hand. “I am sure you will think of something. You always do.”   
  
Permission given, Thomas takes a moment to rise from his place among the pillows. He takes a moment, however, to just stand there and watch Jason continue to dance and move around the small area of the carpet, confined by the musicians. The entryway that he came through originally is now blocked off, the massive shape of Ubu now standing in its center with his arms crossed over his chest. It doesn’t take an intelligent man to know exactly why he’s there.   
  
The fall from the balcony is a rather massive drop. However, if Ra’s’ story is to be believed, perhaps Jason doesn’t fear the dozens of feet it takes to reach the stones below.   
  
After another minute, Thomas steps onto the carpet, joining Jason. That is when the man drops the knife from his teeth and catches it with a waiting hand. It takes all of his will not to reach for the hilt of his own blade. He does not approach Jason, but he does slowly begin to walk around him.   
  
“Your name _is_ Jason, yes? I would hate to say the wrong name.”   
  
Jason, no longer forced to hold the blade between his teeth, or keep up the pretense of enjoyment, dropped his smile the moment the knife fell. Now he curls his lip slightly in a sneer, though he keeps dancing. “If you think I will be your whore for the night because my master demands it so, you will be thoroughly disappointed when I am finished with you.”   
  
Beyond them Ra’s sighs but says nothing. Thomas, on the other hand, to his own surprise, feels his mouth twitch into a slight smile.   
  
“Is that any way to talk to an Emperor of Rome?”   
  
“I have said worse things to beings with more power than a normal man.” Jason moves a little closer, movement still playful, though his mood is not. “It would take only a second to sink this into your heart. Consider what you say, _carefully.”_ _  
_ _  
_ “Do you think it possible? To kill me, that is.” The only way Thomas can see the question takes Jason off guard is by a little misstep in his retreat to the other side of the circle. He stops walking and tilts his head to the side with a little quizzical smile. “Well? Surely you know whether you can or cannot?”   
  
Jason curls his lip. “I can answer, I just worry about how you will take it.”   
  
“So, I assume the answer then would be yes.” Arrogant in his skills, Thomas likes the man, even if Jason, the longer Thomas looks him over, is less than a year out of his boyhood. Yes, Ra’s was right to send him this gift. Especially if he continues to tease his patience the way he is now.   
  
“Why do you keep smiling,” Jason tightens his fingers around the hilt. “Do you think I’m lying?”   
  
“Is it wrong for me to smile when I am enjoying myself?”   
  
“I am not a joke,” Jason’s cheeks visibly darken a lovely shade of red. “I could do it if I wanted.”   
  
“I don’t doubt it.” There is little he could do if Jason decided to take a chance and strike. Even an emperor can be taken out from the bite of a feral dog, death does not mind the shape it arrives in. He is drunk on food and good spirits, Jason is sober with anger. Even with his skills, a lucky strike would be much more feasible in this scenario.   
  
However, Thomas has something Jason does not have. And he doubts the boy has any armor or practice to defend himself.   
  
“Come closer,” he says with a little smile, still walking around the length of the circle. “How else am I supposed to offer you gifts in return for the blade?”   
  
“I think I will stay where I am.” Jason grips the handle tighter. “Ra’s may have promised you my company, but I decide where I go and when I go.”   
  
_A sharp tongue for a slave bound in irons._ There is little doubt that if Thomas grows bored of trading verbal barbs with Jason, Ra’s will either have a more agreeable slave brought in to rectify his mistake or have Ubu take care of Jason’s unwillingness. There is no worry about whether or not Thomas will have the boy. Perhaps that is why he raises his hand.   
  
“Leave us.” Thomas glances at Ra’s. “Everyone.”   
  
Ra’s quirks a brow. The rest of the slaves do not move, though they cease playing. With a glance at their master, Ra’s dips his head. In a flurry of hurried movement, the group quickly gathers their instruments and slips out of the bedroom. Ubu stands to the side as they hurry past him, their eyes glued to the floor. Then, when the last ducks out, does he step aside and shut the large doors to the bedroom.   
  
With a lazy, indolent smirk, Ra’s settles back amongst the pillows. Obviously, he will not be going anywhere despite Thomas’s order. Not that there was any expectation he would. Ra’s likes to keep his eye on everything it seems. This would hardly be an exception.   
  
Jason tenses. Growing stiffer the more people leave the bedroom until he is as solid as a statue when Ubu shuts the doors. That will not do.   
  
He looks Jason over again. The boy is covered in gold, practically dripping in it. The dainty chains around his nipples, the band around his neck and the coins around his waist. There are earrings glittering with rubies in his ears and a band of multi-colored jewels Thomas only just now spots nestled amongst the curls of his black hair. None of Ra’s’ other slaves have one piece of gold adorning their bodies.   
  
There is no amount of wealth Thomas could offer that would eclipse what Ra’s has given him. Likewise, freedom is not an option. What is left to give a man that has everything? Thomas has an idea.   
  
“Your master,” Thomas starts after a moment. He has not moved since the music stopped, staying away from Jason on the other end of Ra’s’ luxurious rug. “Does not give you a very short leash, does he?”   
  
Beyond them he can hear Ra’s snort into his wine cup and, though he cannot see his face, imagines the Shah might just be rolling his eyes. Not that it affects the truth of his words. If Thomas were in the same position, Jason would barely be able to go more than a foot beyond Thomas’s person. The look on Jason’s face, a passing glance of frustration and a muted glint of hopelessness is there and gone again.   
  
Jason no longer dances. He remains still, clutching the knife close to his chest. “If one can call the width of a thread a _leash.”_   
  
“You have come a long way from home, haven’t you?” Thomas tilts his head. “Before I ask whether myths spun in poems are true, how did you wind up in the middle of a seemingly endless desert? That is quite a distance from your island home.”   
  
Curling his lip, Jason huffs. “ _Myths._ Is that what you call anything you don’t know? Or do you think I’ve lost my ability to reason because _he_ says so?”   
  
He’s stubborn. That’s for certain. But right there, that little snap of quick-witted anger reminds Thomas too much of himself. “If you want an answer, Jason, I’m afraid you first have to satisfy my curiosity.”   
  
That gets him a bemused look. Jason opens his mouth, then shuts it, looking abashed and irritated in one, admittedly very pretty, glance. He stumbles in his answer. “I don’t...What does that matter to you?”   
  
“Seeing as it has become my duty to please you for the evening, I thought offering obscene amounts of gold and jewels would be rather redundant with what Ra’s showers you with.” Thomas smiles. No longer wanting to stand, Thomas looks behind him, where the large bed resides. He takes a moment to walk over and sit down on the edge before returning his attention to Jason.   
  
“You have been given a luxurious position at the cost of the curse put upon your head. You never have to worry about lacking in comfort or famine. The rule is, however, you must stay in this one place.” Thomas considers Jason, who shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. “The gods have given you an ache you cannot satisfy any longer. One that drove you to wander the endless desert and, against the desire of fate, found you placed in Ra’s stronghold. You want the world. I can give that to you.”   
  
“That is a very interesting offer. I wonder how you plan on fulfilling such a thing.” It is not Jason that asks, but Ra’s, from his position on the pillows. There is a little smile on his mouth and his body is rather relaxed from where he has been lounging for the evening. Thomas, however, is able to the dangerous glint of evil green in his eyes.   
  
Before Thomas can amend and clarify what he means, Jason growls. “I don’t want the world groveling beneath my feet as you might. I am not interested in forcing everyone to bend the knee to a man greedy enough to think just because he can that he _should.”_ _  
_ _  
_ It seems there is nothing Jason cannot do that Thomas does not fancy. He reminds him very much of his own, now grown, son.   
  
“I understood Ra’s’ rules. I cannot take you, but I can bring the world to you.”   
  
Now it’s Jason’s turn to snort. “And how would you manage to do that, Caesar? You’re not Atlas, are you?”   
  
“No, I am not. But I do, however, make a decent Homer.” Thomas smiles slightly. “There is a section of the library in Rome’s capital I think you might like. It houses a plethora of journals and notebooks filled with paragraphs upon paragraphs from travels across the empire during my youth. Everything, from the natural shaping of the land, the towns, and the number of people that reside within their walls, fill the pages. That is how I can bring the world to you.”   
  
For a moment, Jason is silent. He stares at Thomas, with a slight furrow of his brows and a twitch of his jaw. He keeps the knife close, staring at him, studying the lines of his face so intensely Thomas is certain if Jason were any more of a demigod than what Ra’s has claimed him to be, he might have burst into flame. The only thing that spares him, if it is anything within reason and not Jason’s own fancy, is Thomas’s assumption being correct.   
  
The boy, for all his scars and muscles, speaks rather eloquently. Not only that, but he has also managed to keep Ra’s attention for so long as to make him one of his most valuable possessions. Jason is smart.   
  
“I assume they’re written in Latin,” Jason bites his lip. “I do not speak Latin.”   
  
“I have no doubt you can learn it,” Thomas glances at Ra’s. “I’m sure your master would not protest to a tutor, would he?”   
  
Ra’s considers it, rolling his wrist while he cradles the wine cup in his fingers. “The prince of Kandahar is a rather studious young man. He’s much closer to Nanda Parbat. I’m sure that will suffice?”   
  
_Possessive old man._ “I’ll come to deliver the books every now and then. After all, it’s going to take a few years, nevermind months, to establish communication and trade routes between the capital and the rest of the desert. Roads take time.”   
  
A lot of time if Thomas has anything to say about it. Ra’s tilts his head and raises his cup, bringing it to his lips and settling back against the pillows. Thomas turns to regard Jason, still holding the knife, though his glare has softened considerably.   
  
“What makes you think your writing will be anything I want to read?”   
  
“What makes you think I am so certain you will? I do not know anything that has not yet happened. I simply am offering you something you do not have.” He smooths the covers over the bed. “If you do not think it is enough, perhaps I can think of something else to satisfy?”   
  
Jason bites his lower lip, running his teeth across it. “No...it will suffice.”   
  
Thomas tries not to preen, though he does relax slightly and pats the space beside him. “Now will you come closer?”   
  
Resistance is something that Jason finds comfortable. Thomas can see that in the way he brings the knife closer, until his knuckles brush against his chest. Submission does not come as easy to a man as it does to a woman. So he does not try to force Jason to come any closer despite his needling frustration at not being agreeable outright. As he said earlier, Ra’s might have promised his company, but it is up to Jason when he decides to sheath his claws and roll onto his back willingly.   
  
A minute of silence passes, save for distant booms of the fireworks miles away, before Jason steps across the carpet. The coins on his belt jingle and clack together as he comes to a halt in front of Thomas. Still holding the blade tightly in his fingers, he holds it out, the jagged edge of its teeth pointing down.   
  
“Here,” he says, voice soft and quiet. “I accept your gift.”   
  
Thomas wraps his hand around Jason’s, curling his calloused fingers over smooth knuckles. With a careful pull, he gently eases it from his hand and draws it back. Once it is free he tosses it aside where it skitters across the stones. He hums.   
  
“Come here, up on the bed. I am not yet done.”   
  
With a confused glare, Jason steps around Thomas, watching him out of the corner of his eye as he pulls himself up and onto the bed. Ridiculously, the bed is so large it makes Jason look small, almost boyishly so. He crawls up it on all fours, turning around only when he reaches the pile of pillows gathered against the decorative bed frame. Glancing over his shoulder and then straight on, Jason settles against them, shy and embarrassed with that pretty pink flush growing over his cheeks.   
  
Thomas can’t help but purr. “That’s a much better look for you. I can see why Ra’s was so determined to keep you here.”   
  
“I hope you remember the second part of my demands,” Ra’s calls from behind. “No damage.”   
  
Jason’s eyes widen and Thomas curses under his breath. “The reminder was not necessary, but I suppose I shall thank you all the same.”   
  
“I shall accept it. You’re welcome.” He can hear the bastard’s smirk.   
  
With a sigh, Thomas moves up along the bed. He is careful in his approach, Jason lookingly decidedly more afraid since Ra’s interruption, glancing towards the discarded knife. That won’t do. Purposefully, Thomas wraps his fingers around Jason’s ankle and tugs. With a gasp, Jason falls back on the bed, quickly pushing himself up on his elbows. Pouting, Jason huffs a short breath, hair blowing out of his eyes.   
  
“Don’t look so cross. I was merely making sure you were paying attention.” Thomas settles between Jason’s legs. With a curious hand, he skims his fingers along the sheer silk. It’s a beautiful color, the deep shade of red brings out the pink bow of Jason’s soft mouth. It’s a shame that Thomas reaches for his own knife, drawing it out before Jason can protest and slices a small gash into the pant legs.   
  
“Hey--” Jason shouts. He reaches for the blade, but Thomas quickly tosses it aside.   
  
“Hush, I am sure Ra’s has dozens more for you.”   
  
“That is not why I am angry,” Jason frowns, but falls back against the bed. “Does every Roman destroy beauty as carelessly as you do? Or am I just special in that regard?”   
  
Thomas has to laugh. With a considering smirk, he grips either side of the split in the pants and tears it. With a silent rip, the pants split in half easily from the hem of Jason’s hip to the hem around his ankle, exposing a well-muscled thigh. Jason jumps at the sound, angrily huffing when Thomas slides a hand across his warm skin.   
  
“I admit, I am much more inclined to get to you faster than others. I have been extremely eager to get my hands on you ever since you walked into the room this evening. Unfortunately, it seems you have made me rather greedy.”   
  
“Shall I add that to my list of heroic deeds?” Jason shivers as Thomas moves some of the coins of his decorative belt aside. Pushing his hand past the darker fabric, he brushes his fingers over the length of Jason’s cock. Which he is both pleased to find is half-hard and also quite generously proportioned.   
  
“I take back any doubt I had about your story.” Thomas draws his hand back. Gripping the hem of Jason’s pants, he pulls it down far enough to expose his cock. It pops out, red and half-swollen with blood, a nice prominent vein sticking out from his skin. Thomas runs his finger along it, nail leading the way. He marvels at the way Jason squirms and shivers from the attention. “This was obviously a gift from the gods.”   
  
Jason’s cheeks darken as red as his pants. “That is obscene.”   
  
“Yes, I am told I am quite adept at that.” Thomas leans down. The dance Jason had been performing earlier must have caused him to get a little sweaty, for there is a subtle smell of musk and salt when Thomas gets close enough. His mouth tingles and waters, and he dips his head so he can slide out his tongue and flick it across the bare head of Jason’s cock.   
  
The soft gasp it gets him in draws a rush of blood and heat south. He purrs and does it again, this time letting it stay there, exploring the width of it before dipping down. Above him, Jason digs his nails into the sheets, perfect mouth falling open slightly, choking on a stuttering breath when Thomas skims his tongue over the base. There he places a soft trail of kisses across Jason’s balls, licking at the softer skin and drawing one into his mouth.   
  
He hums, glancing up at Jason and marveling at the red flush across his cheeks. The vibrations from his mouth make Jason tremble violently. So much so that he falls back against the bed, quickly drawing a hand up to his mouth and biting hard on the knuckle.   
  
Thomas pulls away. “If you are determined to keep yourself silent I will have Ra’s come over and tie your hands to the headboard.”   
  
Jason shudders, but removes his hand from his mouth. “I’m sorry.”   
  
“I want to hear you sing, Jason. I wonder if it’s any better than your dancing.” The little glare he earns makes Thomas chuckles softly, but returns his attention to Jason’s aching cock.   
  
Without a hand to muffle his whines, Jason is louder. He lets his head fall back against the mattress as Thomas licks his way back up the length of his prick. He squirms and sighs when Thomas takes the head into his mouth. There he swirls his tongue around the tip, tasting the salty musk of Jason’s precum. From where he’s positioned, Thomas watches Jason carefully. How his eyes flutter shut and lashes clump together with the start of fat tears.   
  
When he draws his mouth away, his hand is quick to replace it. Cradling his balls between his calloused fingers, Thomas softly tugs on the skin, while letting his thumb move down to rub against the short bit of skin beneath his hole. Jason cries out, arching his back and spurts droplets of precum across his stomach.   
  
“Sensitive, isn’t he?” Ra’s is closer now. Thomas can hear the rustled movement of pillows and the soft pad of footsteps over carpet. As if the Shah could be expected to sit still for any length of time.   
  
“Do you need a better seat?” Thomas lets his thumb drag down, lower and lower until he can press it against puckered skin. Jason shivers and sucks in a sharp breath. “Expect me to share so soon?”   
  
“I simply thought it would be a waste of his lovely mouth.” Ra’s walks around the length of the bed. Thomas watches him out of the corner of his eye, as Jason shivers and gasps the more he places pressure on his fluttering hole. When Ra’s reaches the other end of the bed he sits down on the edge, placing one hand behind him as he leans down, closer to Jason’s face. “You don’t mind, do you, Thomas?”   
  
As if he could deny the Shah. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”   
  
Ra’s hums, content, and lifts himself further onto the bed. As he repositions himself around Jason, Thomas lets his eyes drift back down to Jason’s twitching cock. Drawing his hand away, he reaches toward his robes and their pockets. Inside one is a vial of oil that he goes nowhere without. Better to be prepared than not at all. He has a voracious appetite.   
  
Slipping it free, he pulls the cork from the vial free and coats his fingers in a generous amount. When they are completely drenched, he corks the vial and then sets it aside on the bed. Letting his hand slip back down, he circles Jason’s fluttering hole for a moment, watching the boy shake under the attention. Then he slips one finger inside.   
  
Jason keens.   
  
“F-Fuck... _nn,”_ a tear slides down Jason’s cheek. He buries his face into the pillows, cheeks red, but Ra’s is quick to move his head away, and prop it up on his thighs.   
  
“No hiding, beloved, the Emperor wants to see your face.”   
  
Yes, yes he does. Thomas watches with dark eyes, pushing his finger past the initial resistance that comes, curling it up after it reaches the last knuckle. Jason squirms, but Ra’s quickly soothes him by stroking a hand through his hair. Dragging his finger along his walls, Thomas spends another minute searching before his finger finds that little bump that draws a wail from Jason’s mouth.   
  
“I’m glad to see I was right,” Thomas purrs and does it again. Jason arches under the touch, toes curling against the blankets. “You do sing better.”   
  
Jason barely has a half second to spare him a glare before Ra’s is sliding his own hands down Jason’s chest, letting his fingers catch on the chain that connects to his pierced nipples. A wounded mewl leaves his mouth as Ra’s settles his fingers over his nipples and rubs small, tight circles against them.   
  
“Prettiest songbird there is.” Ra’s sends Thomas a smirk. “Go on. Take what is yours, then.”   
  
Playing with his dessert is off the table. Despite his desire to take Jason apart inch by inch, listening to his sweet and breathy sighs all night, Ra’s is an impatient man. It’s clear, even though Jason is a gift, he is still very much Ra’s’ treasure. So he slips in another finger at Ra’s’ command, admiring the way Jason’s eyes flutter closed, mouth falling open soundlessly.   
  
Unable to help himself, he leans down and kisses Jason, licking into his open mouth. The boy tastes of sweet wine and tart dates. Growling, Thomas bites that plush bottom lip, drawing away with it in his teeth. Jason whines when it pulls free, reaching up to brush his fingers across the tender skin. He opens his eyes, half-lidded and wet, peering up through thick lashes. In return to such a look, Thomas drags his two fingers over Jason’s prostate.   
  
The cry he receives, in turn, makes both older men groan.   
  
Now fully and painfully hard, he quickens his pace. Scissoring his fingers apart, Thomas flicks his eyes between watching Jason’s fluttering hole and twitching cock. Above him, Ra’s fiddles with the silk tie of his robe. After a moment Ra’s withdraws his dark cock, pink tip glistening and wet already. He wraps his slim fingers around it, stroking it slowly. Shifting on the bed, Ra’s presses the head against Jason’s cheek. The boy turns his head to the side and eagerly licks at the tip.   
  
Thomas growls.   
  
Ra’s sends him a little smirk. “Easy there, Caesar. There is still much of the night left. You will get your chance.”   
  
_That is not what upsets me._ Huffing, Thomas slides in a third and final finger. It’s a bit of a stretch, surprising considering how much Ra’s must use him during the day. He would never leave the boy alone if Jason lived in the capital. He would probably never be tight again. Thomas has, according to his own wife, an insatiable appetite.   
  
Twisting his fingers, he draws them apart as far as they’ll go then back together, pressing them deep inside. Jason distracts himself by covering Ra’s length in numerous soft, open-mouth kisses. Traveling down the length of his cock with kittenish licks, mewling when Thomas rubs against his prostate. Cheekily, he takes the tip into his warm mouth when Thomas is particularly brutish, muffling his wail. Ra’s hisses at the vibrations, reaching down to stroke a hand across Jason’s throat, pressing down just enough to cut off his breathing for a moment. When he releases the pressure from his fingers, Jason sighs and takes Ra’s further into his throat. Nearly burying his nose into Ra’s hair in one go.   
  
Thomas groans, pulling out his fingers quickly. He has waited long enough. Grabbing the vial of oil once more, he takes out the cork and empties the rest of the contents into a cupped palm. Then, after tossing the vial onto the carpet below, he fiddles with his robes with one hand, until he can slip his cock free. Ra’s purrs.   
  
“I see the rumors were true. How do you plan on fitting that inside Jason, Thomas?”   
  
Jason blinks owlishly, pulling off Ra’s’ cock to get a better glance down. When he sees Thomas exposed, the blush on his cheek fades. He gapes.   
  
“That— ...Master, that will not _fit_ —”   
  
“Hush, habibi.” Ra’s strokes a hand through his hair, urging his head back towards his cock. “It’s only a cock.”   
  
“Only— That is the width and length of my forearm,” Jason says, eyes blown wide as Thomas smears the oil across his prick. He squirms slightly, but Ra’s holds him still, two hands holding down Jason’s shoulders. “That will tear anyone open.”   
  
“Your praise, while appreciated, is not needed,” Thomas smirks. “My lovers find it enjoyable.”   
  
“They’re mad.” Jason, panting, grips the blankets as Thomas arranges himself between his legs. “You’re mad.”   
  
“Do you think the ones that return to my tent after the first time, still able to use both of their legs, are somehow invincible?” Thomas takes Jason’s legs and lifts them up slightly onto his thighs, raising his hips to give him a better angle. Jason’s fluttering hole, shiny with oil, is enough to make his mouth water.   
  
“You’re exaggerating,” Jason hisses when the cool press of oil at the tip of Thomas’s cock touches his rim. For a moment, Thomas simply rubs the head back and forth over the twitching skin, watching as the flush returns to Jason’s cheeks.   
  
“It seems we both are,” Thomas smiles, flicking his eyes up to Ra’s who smirks in return. Pressing the tip against Jason’s rim, he slowly pushes inside. There’s a great deal of resistance despite having stretched his tight hole, but it doesn’t manage to stop him. Jason’s mouth falls open as it widens, letting out a stuttering gasp when the head completely pops inside.   
  
“ _Ah, nn-_ fuckkk—” Ra’s takes advantage of Jason’s open mouth, feeding his cock back into his warm throat. Jason turns his head and eagerly suckles on Ra’s’ length, swallowing around it.   
  
“Good, beloved, very, _mm,_ good.”   
  
Thomas continues to feed his prick inside. He has to stop for a moment, breathing through the resulting involuntary clench of muscle every now and then. It’s a slow-going process he is grateful for. Since watching his cock sink inside Jason’s perfect body is positively one of the most erotic sights he has ever witnessed. He surely would have come too early if it weren’t for Jason’s hole clenching so tightly around him it staved off any approaching finish.   
  
“How much more is there?” Ra’s curls his fingers through Jason’s hair, humming softly as Jason buries his nose into his coarse hair. The boy, however, has one eye open, glancing down at Thomas.   
  
He hums. “Nearly halfway.”   
  
Jason chokes and gags around Ra’s. Thomas chuckles and rolls his hips, sinking in further, just past the thickness in the center. Keening, Jason whimpers but dutifully returns to his current duty by drooling pathetically around Ra’s’ throbbing prick. Ra’s is quick to wipe the few tears that fall off Jason’s cheeks.   
  
“You are doing well, beloved, almost done.”   
  
A lie, Thomas is planning to draw out this coupling by hours if possible. He’s sure Ra’s has some teas that will give him the stamina. However, with one final push his cock sinks inside of Jason entirely. The skin on his hips pressing up against Jason’s thighs. For a moment, Thomas merely closes his eyes and growls through the vice-tight heat embracing him, panting through a building wave of pleasure he outlasts. It leaves him shivering and painfully hard.   
  
Looking down at Jason who meekly draws off Ra’s’ cock to press kisses along the underside, he purrs. Then, instantly, his gentle demeanor and slow precision is set aside as a feral beast overtakes him.   
  
Two calloused hands wrap around Jason’s hips, digging his nails into the skin hard enough to bruise. He withdraws entirely and then forces himself back inside all the way, shaking Jason with the force of how hard he slides back home. Jason, surprised, yelps and removes his attention from Ra’s long enough the Shah gets his chance to wrap his fingers through his curls and hold him hard. Slamming his cock back into Jason’s open throat, Ra’s snarls with the ferocity of a demon from the underworld.   
  
Jason whines, unable to do anything more than dig his fingers into the blankets on the bed and arch pitifully when Ra’s’ cock makes his throat bulge. Thomas glares down at it, the way his skin stretches over, and removes a hand from his hip so he can press it down against the hollow of his throat. Jason chokes around Ra’s’ cock. Ra’s, on the other hand, groans and hunches over, sucking in a deep breath. Thomas smirks and slams against Jason’s prostate. The howl it earns him sends vibrations down to the tips of the boy’s toes. Both older leaders shudder through it.   
  
He will not be able to last long, as unfortunate as it is. Jason’s body is too tight, too warm, too slick around him. Watching Jason writhe as he fucks him hard enough the bed frame slams against the walls is such a provocative display, he could find satisfaction from the sight alone. Ra’s doesn’t seem to be faring any better.   
  
Ra’s fucks Jason’s throat with reckless abandon, tugging his hair harder to get a better angle. With Thomas’s hand still cutting off Jason’s airway, it makes the clench so much tighter. Ra’s, drunk on his victory and Jason’s whines, comes before the others, slamming himself far down Jason’s throat and growling through his finish.   
  
Jason, ever the dutiful one, drinks it down despite the heavy hand on his throat. Thomas withdraws his hand, slowing his pace to a pleasant roll of his hips. When Ra’s draws his cock free, spit-slick but clean, Jason sucks in an obscene gasp. Only for Thomas to force it out of his lungs with a purposeful drag against his prostate.   
  
“I-I,” Jason wheezes, hoarse. “I ca-cannot go—”   
  
“A minute longer.” Thomas draws his hand down and squeezes the base of his cock. “And then I will permit you release.”   
  
Jason sobs, but nods. Burying his face into Ra’s’ thigh, Jason’s swollen mouth falls open. Without anything to stop him, he cries out, panting hard and desperately against Ra’s’ skin. Thomas settles his hands on either side of Jason’s waist, curling his fingers against the blankets.   
  
He is not graceful, nor is he considerate. He fucks Jason like a tidal wave from a maelstrom, snarling and grunting above him. Jason cries out, arching his back and offering his jeweled nipples to the air. Thomas is quick to duck his head and nip at one rosy bud, enjoying the obscene cry it gives him. Though he cannot last long, he spends the short time abusing Jason’s prostate mercilessly. Biting harder into the flesh of Jason’s pec, he buries himself deep inside, merely twitching his hips against Jason’s poor prostate.   
  
Jason finishes first with a cry and breaks partway through. Hot cum paints Thomas’s chest and Jason’s stomach while tears pour down his ruddy cheeks. Thomas moves his head, only to tilt it up and steal the breath from Jason’s lungs with a firm kiss. Jason kisses back, helpless and meek, as Thomas crests over his own pleasure, filling Jason with his warm finish. The boy shivers, twitching helplessly around him.   
  
Unlike Ra’s, Thomas remains inside for a moment longer, working through his afterglow. Rocking his hips slowly back and forth, he watches Jason, oversensitive and abused, shake as he comes down from his orgasmic high. Kissing his tears again, Thomas drags his mouth down Jason’s jaw and nips at his neck.   
  
Ra’s said not to leave damage, but temporary marks will sate his possessive urge to claim.   
  
When he finally pulls out of Jason, the poor boy’s hole is a puffy pink, drooling oil and a bit of cum. Thomas drags his thumb through the mess, gathering it on the pad, and sinking it right back inside. Jason mewls and tightens around his thumb. _Good boy._ _  
_ _  
_ “Does your gift satisfy, Caesar?” Ra’s hums. He’s lying back against the pillows, looking sated and pleased. “Was it worth the wait?”   
  
Thomas flicks his eyes down to Jason, flushed red and blissed out, looking up at him through thick tears. There is no question in his mind.   
  
He is going to steal Jason of Greece from the Demon Shah of the Desert.


End file.
